


Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

by PR Zed (przed)



Series: Christmases in Manchester [1]
Category: Take That
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-23
Updated: 2011-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-27 21:44:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/300360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/przed/pseuds/PR%20Zed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark and Robbie are teenage runaways.  Jason just wants to help.</p><p>Non-con warning provided for  suggestions of off-screen abuse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to halotolerant for help with the medical stuff and the fab beta, moth2fic for assistance with the Manchester locations, and soundofthesurf for being the best first reader a gal could have.

It had been a cold afternoon and was promising to be an even colder evening. The sky had been ominously grey all day, and Mark could feel a change in the air that told him snow was on the way. He'd got good at feeling what weather was coming in. It was a valuable skill when you were sleeping rough, knowing when you could kip under a bridge and when you needed to find a squat with a proper roof over your head.

Well, at least they had found a good squat, him and Rob. It wasn't heated, but the wind and rain didn't get in. Now, if he only could make enough money…

He shifted nervously on his feet and snuck a look at the cap he had placed in front of him. It never did to look at your takings when you were busking, but he couldn't help it. He knew he didn't have nearly enough to get them through the night and tomorrow, and time was running out. They both needed food, and Rob needed some paracetamol and cough medicine. But with the few pennies and 20 pence pieces he'd earned so far, he'd be hard-pressed to get even a small order of chips for the two of them.

He wished he had Rob's bottle. Rob always got them the best pitch for busking, not the out of the way corner under the Piccadilly arches that was the only spot he'd managed to secure, and he could charm a few coins from even the most hard-hearted punter. But Rob wasn't here, it was just him and his inadequate voice, and he feared that wasn't nearly enough.

Still, it was better than the alternative.

When they'd first ended up on the streets, he and Rob had run with a group of boys who'd shown them how to survive. They'd told them which restaurants threw out the best grub in their rubbish bins, where to kip without the threat of being beaten up. One of them had told Mark he had the right looks to turn tricks around Canal St., and he'd been mad enough to think he could actually do it. He'd been through worse, after all, and this time it would be his choice. But the first time a punter had led him into an alley and touched his arm, he'd known he couldn't do it. He'd pushed the man, hard, and run. Rob had held him close that night, and made him promise he'd never be that stupid again.

No, it was far better to face the humiliation of singing carols on the streets.

He took a deep breath, smiled his best smile, and launched into Silent Night as a crowd of commuters emerged from the station. He put his heart into the song, hoping that his luck was about to turn, that this group of punters would throw more than a few pence into his hat.

* * *

There were days, Jason thought, when he wondered if this job would be the end of him. Christmas Eve, and what was he doing? Helping a woman and her three kids escape from a drunken bastard of a husband, and making sure another family had food on the table tomorrow, and don’t even think about gifts under the tree for the little 'uns. All he wanted to do now was go home and sleep for twenty-four hours, preferably in Howard's arms. Not that that was in the cards. They were due at Howard's mum and dad's tomorrow, and his mum's on Boxing Day, and then it would be back to Ardwick and to deal with all the problems that crossed his desk at the Council office.

He took a deep breath of the crisp winter air, then released it, along with all the troubles of the day. He was going to enjoy the evening. He'd pop 'round to Affleck's Palace and see if he could find one last pressie for Howard and maybe something for his brothers, then head home, cook dinner, and have a cuddle on the sofa. With visions of Howard's smile in his mind, not even the crush of people heading towards Piccadilly Station could do in his mood.

He was nearing the arches of the train station when he heard the unaccompanied voice of someone singing Good King Wenceslas. He glanced over and saw a boy set up with a cap in front of him. As Jason drew closer he realized the boy was one of a duo he often saw busking around the station. He'd always thought the two of them made a good team, and he almost always threw fifty pence or a pound into their cap. The boy's taller friend was the stronger singer, but this one had an interesting voice, full of unusual textures and suited to the odd intervals of the song. He slowed to a stop in front of the boy's pitch and stopped to listen.

The boy smiled whenever anyone dropped a coin in his hat, a thousand watt beaming smile that was infectious, though looking closer, Jason could see it didn't quite extend to his eyes. With powers of observation trained by two years working for the Council, he noted the ragged if clean jacket, and the undernourished look of the boy, the circles under his eyes. Runaway, he thought. And not doing too well at the moment. There was little enough money in his cap.

Jason rummaged in his pockets and came up with a fiver. It was more generous than he usually was, but it was Christmas Eve after all. It didn't look like this lad was going to have much of a Christmas. He waited until the boy reached the end of the song to drop the fiver into his hat.

"That was great." Jason gave the boy a friendly smile.

"Thanks." The boy looked as if he barely knew what to do with a compliment. Jason wondered what had happened to him that sleeping rough or in a squat was better than being at home. Not that he hadn't seen a hundred kids just like him in his job, with a hundred different stories that all came down to the same thing: there hadn't been anyone there for them.

At least this one had his friend. Speaking of which...

"Where's your mate?" Jason asked. The kid looked down at the ground before answering, as if he was hoping Jason would now forget about him. "Only I usually see the two of you together. Was just a bit concerned."

"He's a bit under the weather," the boy said without looking up, though the way he was biting his lip made Jason think the other boy was probably a bit more than under the weather.

"What's wrong with him? Exactly, I mean." Jason had seen one too many kids, and adults too, come down with pneumonia and worse while living on the streets. He didn't want these two to become another statistic that crossed his desk.

"Why would you want to know that?" The kid looked suspicious, and no wonder. Jason had seen firsthand what happened to kids who'd trusted the wrong person.

"I can help. My name's Jason." He held out his hand to the boy. "What's yours?"

"I'm Mark." The boy, Mark, took his hand in a light grip before quickly pulling it away.

"Well, Mark, I work for the Council, and…"

He got no further than that. Mark looked up in alarm as soon as he said the word "Council" and scooped up his hat with his meagre takings.

"I've got to go," he said, then dashed away.

"Bloody hell," Jason said, watching the boy run. And then without even making a conscious decision, he began to run after the boy, his messenger bag bumping awkwardly against his side. It was madness. He wasn't on the clock, this boy wasn't one of his files. Yet he feared what would happen to Mark and his friend if he gave up the chase and let him slip away.

He couldn't keep up with a small, wiry teenager who could slip through the crowds of last minute shoppers, but he did manage to keep Mark in sight until he slipped down a street of boarded up terraced houses waiting for demolition. By the time he got to the corner, the boy had vanished. He cursed and slowed up, trying to figure out where the boy had gone, even as the rational part of his brain told him he was a nutter for bothering. He was about to give up when he noticed the boards on one of the doors had been pushed slightly aside. Close up, he could see a gap just wide enough for a skinny kid and an almost as skinny twentysomething to slip through. Clutching his bag to his chest, Jason pushed through and into the old house.

The inside was dark, and Jason had to wait for a moment while his eyes adjusted. He found himself inside an empty room strewn with the debris of the people who used to live here: a smashed chair in one corner; a torn curtain covering half of the boarded-up window. He listened closely, and heard the sound of footsteps overhead, so he made for the stairs.

He could hear muted voices on the first floor, and began to walk to the front of the house where they were coming from.

"--got to go, Rob."

"I can't, Markie. Just can't move."

"You have to. It's not safe here anymore. I think he followed me."

Jason approached the room the two boys were in cautiously, and entered slowly, with his hands raised. His foot crunched on a broken piece of plaster, and Mark whirled to face him, his face panicked.

"Don't come near us," Mark said, pulling a pitifully small jack-knife from his pocket and wielding it in Jason's direction. His friend, Rob seemed to be his name, was lying on the floor behind him in a nest made of sleeping bags. Rob looked fucking awful. His forehead was glistening with sweat in spite of the cold of the room, and even in the dim light coming through the boards on the single window in the room, his skin looked almost grey.

"I only want to help," Jason said, taking care not to move too quickly or do anything either boy might view as threatening. Mark's knife might be small, but Jason knew the damage that even such an unimpressive weapon could inflict.

"You can help us by fucking off." Mark was short, but he gave off a fierce energy that Jason took seriously.

"I can't do that." And he really couldn't. Not now that he'd seen the conditions these two were living in, and seen how rough his friend was.

"We're not going back into care." Mark's voice shook a bit on that, and Jason cursed the bastard who'd taught this boy fear. "We're just not."

"Right now I'm more concerned with making sure your friend gets the help he needs," Jason said, avoiding the issue of what he was going to do with these two. He wasn't going to be yet another adult who had lied to them. "He looks very sick."

"I'm alright," Rob said, struggling to sit up. But that just brought on a wave of coughing that proved he was very much not alright.

"You need to be in a hospital."

"No hospitals," Mark insisted, brandishing that bloody knife.

"At the very least, you can't stay here." Jason tried to keep the exasperation out of his voice. "An unheated squat is no place to be if you're sick."

"We've got nowhere else to go."

Fuck. No teenager, no _child_ , should have known the level of despair Jason saw in Mark's eyes. He made a decision that he hoped wasn't going to come back to haunt him.

"You can stay with us."

"Us?" Mark looked wary.

"Me and my roommate. Howard."

"He doesn't work for the Council, does he?"

"Howard? No." Jason laughed at the thought of Howard sitting at a desk in the Council office. "He paints cars at a garage, does some DJing on the side."

"DJing's cool," Rob offered up in a weak voice. He clutched at the leg of Mark's jeans. "Let's trust him, Mark."

Mark looked unsure, and he stared at Jason for a long minute. Jason knew he was being evaluated, and pulled out his best trustworthy expression, the one he used when dealing with kids that were as damaged as Mark seemed to be.

The boy finally blinked and the fight seemed to go out of him. He carefully snapped his knife closed, stuck it in his back pocket before looking back at Jason with an expression that seemed a mixture of defeat and resignation.

"Alright. We'll trust you, for now. But we're not going back in care."

"Great," Jason said, hoping he didn't lose his job over this. "Now let's get your friend out of here.

* * *

Howard collapsed on the bed and stretched out to his full length, his dreads spread out on the pillow underneath his head. He felt utterly shattered. They'd all been hoping it would be a slow day, but then three cars had arrived in the afternoon that the boss absolutely insisted had to be done before they left, and everyone had had to scramble. It was dark by the time he'd left the garage, and now it was darker still outside.

Jason was late.

He'd hoped Jason would be home already, had been looking forward to them having a quiet night in before the family madness started tomorrow. He wondered what emergency had kept Jason at work this time. He hoped it wasn't one of the bad ones, the incidents that would have Jason sleepless for days and weeks afterwards. He hoped it didn't involve kids.

He wasn't sure how Jason did his job, dealing with the worst Manchester had to dole out, day after bleeding day. But that was just the sort of bloke Jay was: always fighting to make things better, and then always overthinking the results, planning to do better the next time.

Howard curled onto his side and closed his eyes, thinking he'd just lie here for a minute and then get up and make a brew. Whatever had happened, he knew Jason would need a cuppa by the time he got home.

He woke up to a completely darkened room, not sure what time it was and if he'd slept through the night. But then he heard the rattling of the door opening.

"Jay?" he called out.

"It's me," Jason called back from downstairs. "I've got a bit of a surprise for you."

"It's not that mixing deck I've had my eye on, is it?" Howard smiled, knowing it was a daft question. The bloody mixing deck cost more than both of them made in a month. If Jason had bought it, they'd be eating nothing but dry toast made from stale bread for the foreseeable future.

"Not quite," Jason said.

"Let's take a look then." Howard clattered down the stairs into the kitchen, and then turned into the living room. He found Jason standing with both doors still open, and two kids by his side. One of them was a little bloke with floppy hair and a determined expression. The other, being supported between Jason and the first kid, was dark-haired, near Jason's height, and looked about ready to collapse.

"Howard, meet Mark and Rob." Jason gave him one of his widest grins, as if that could erase the fact that he'd finally brought two of his bloody strays home with him. Ever since Jason had started working at the Council, Howard had been waiting for this day. "They're going to stay with us for a few days. Rob isn't feeling well, so I told them they could crash in our living room. I used up the last of my dosh on a cab so we didn't have to take the bus. The buses would be desperate on Christmas Eve. It was hard enough finding a free cab. And here we are."

Jason was being chatty. Howard had known Jason a long time, since they were both kids fighting it out at breakdance competitions, and Howard knew one thing: when Jason got chatty it was time to get worried.

"Nice to meet you, Mark and Rob." He waved at the sofa. "Why don't you sit down. Jason, could I talk to you?" He walked back to the kitchen without even waiting for an answer.

There was rustling behind him, and he could hear Jason say "It'll be okay," and then Jason joined him.

"Are you fucking mental?" Howard said, the words blurting out before he had a chance to think them through.

"Keep it down, How. They'll hear you."

"I don't care if they hear me. You've brought two runaways into our home."

"They're not-"

"You're not about to tell me they're not runaways."

"Well, no, they are. But you saw them. They've got nowhere to go, and Rob is sick. You're not about to turn them away. Not on Christmas Eve."

"You're going to lose your job over this, and then how will we pay the rent?" Howard ran his hands through his hair. "Or worse, what if you're nicked for, I don't know, harbouring runaways. Or corrupting a minor. You know what the coppers are like around here."

"Howard-" Jason said, trying to break in on his hysterical rambling, but Howard was having none of it.

"I know. I'll bet we both get nicked and tossed in prison. And we'll lose our jobs and our house and when we get out we'll be living on the streets with your friends out there."

"Are you done?" Jason stared at him with his arms crossed.

There were times when Howard thought he could almost throttle Jason and his unnatural calm, and this was very definitely one of them.

"Yeah," he finally said, feeling entirely like a sulky child who's been berated by a parent.

"Um." The both turned to find Mark standing at the threshold of the kitchen, his hands in his pockets. "I don't mean to be any trouble." He pointed back to the living room where Howard could hear his friend coughing. "I think we should go."

"No!" Howard said at the same time as Jason.

"You have to stay," Jason said with his usual enthusiasm.

"Yeah," Howard agreed. Because as much as he feared what might come down on their heads for taking these two boys in, he wasn't about to kick anyone out onto the streets. Not on Christmas Eve. Not any time.

"If you're sure," Mark said in a tone that suggested he was anything but.

"We're sure." Jason put his arm around Mark in his usual friendly way. Howard saw the boy flinch, but he didn't pull away, which he supposed must be a good sign. "Now let's get Rob taken care of, shall we?"

They all made their way back to the lounge and found Rob on the sofa. He was still in the parka he'd arrived in, but was shivering uncontrollably.

He frowned at Jason, who frowned back and shook his head, but putting on a cheerful expression and approaching the sick boy.

"How are you doing, Rob?"

"I've been better," the boy said with a quiet voice, his words setting off another coughing jag. When he finally stopped coughing and caught his breath, Howard could see he'd coughed up horrible-looking green crap.

"He needs a hospital, Jason," Howard said as he handed the boy a tissue. He was beginning to think if they didn't get this boy some serious medical attention, getting shopped to the police for taking in runaways would be the least of their problems.

"No hospital," Rob said, sounding determined in spite of how sick he was.

"Now listen," Howard said, sitting on the back of the sofa and looking down at the boy. "I don't fancy your chances if we don't get you to a doctor."

Rob looked up at Howard, then over at Mark as if he was asking for permission. Mark nodded once, then looked down.

"If I go to a hospital, they'll figure out who I am. Who we both are. And they'll send us back to the group home."

"Is that so bad?" Howard asked.

"Mark can't go back there," Rob said firmly. His eyes said more than that, said things Howard didn't want to know. Howard looked over at Mark, but the other boy's back was to him, and he thought he saw his shoulders shaking, just a bit. That was enough for him.

"Right, then. No hospitals." Howard looked up at Jason and could see he was thinking the same thing.

"Gary?" Jason asked.

"Gary," Howard said.

* * *

Gary was hunched over a text book, determined to finish this revision on the pathology of rashes before his next day on the ward, when there was a knock at his door. He ignored it. That bastard of a consultant had ripped Jarvis a new one when he couldn't answer questions about rashes today, and Gary didn't want to be the next victim on the block. Surely whoever it was would go away.

They didn't. They knocked again, louder this time.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," he muttered under his breath, before sticking a scrap of paper in the text book to mark his place and heading for the door. "What do you want?" he snapped as he yanked it open, to find Jason from next door with his hand poised to knock again.

"Sorry," Jason said. "Is this a bad time? Only we had a slight favour to ask, me and How."

It _was_ a bad time, but Gary wasn't going to take it out on Jason. Jason and Howard had always been good to him. They'd helped him get his furniture up to the first floor bedroom when he'd first moved in. Jason had always been willing to listen to him whinge on about the life of a medical student, and Howard had always been willing to share a pot of tea with him when they'd both come home late at the same time, him from the hospital and How from whatever club he'd been DJing at.

"No, that's alright. I was doing some work before I leave for my parents' house. Mum's expecting me tomorrow, but I'm due back in the hospital on Boxing Day." He waved Jason in. "Can I make you a brew?"

"No thanks," Jason said without making a move to enter his house. "It's only...well, we know you're not fully qualified, but we were wondering..."

Gary smiled. Every doctor he'd met had told him this would happen. Let someone know you were a doctor, or studying to be a doctor, and they'd bring out every medical complaint they'd ever suffered for you to mull over. And they'd been right.

"What's the matter? Did Howard slice open his hand at the garage again?"

"No, nothing like that." Jason shuddered, and no wonder. Gary had helped them with the dressing a few months ago when Howard had opened his palm on a stray piece of sheet metal. It had been an ugly wound. "No, it's just that we have a friend staying with us, and he's ill, and we think it might be something beyond a cold."

"Why not take him to a qualified doctor?" Gary asked, thinking that Jason had made an interesting hesitation on the word "friend."

"Well, he's not keen on doctors. Or hospitals. We thought if you could take a look at him. Tell us what we should be doing." Jason looked at him hopefully.

"I suppose it won't hurt if I take a look," Gary said, even as he thought of all the ways it could hurt a great deal. "Wait a minute and I'll get my stethoscope."

"Thanks." Jason smiled at him. "That would be brilliant."

Gary got his stethoscope and followed Jason to the house he shared with Howard. Jason ushered him into the lounge, and there he found the reason for Jason's odd behaviour. There was Howard in the lounge with two very scruffy looking teenagers. If he'd had to bet, Gary would have put good money on them both being homeless. One of them, a sweet-faced brunet who must be the reason he'd been asked over, was lying on the sofa looking very rough indeed. The other, a short bloke with sandy hair that seemed to be perpetually in his eyes, was hovering at the end of the sofa looking like he was torn between staying at his friend's side and avoiding the notice of this new arrival.

"Gary, this is Rob and Mark." Jason made the introductions. "That's Rob on the sofa. Rob and Mark, this is Gary. He's our neighbour and he's studying medicine."

"Hello," Gary said, putting on his cheery face, the one he used when facing reluctant children or battleaxe nursing sisters. "Jason tells me you're not feeling well," he said to Rob.

The boy shrugged, and then gave a cough that Gary didn't like the sound of at all. But he didn't react, just stayed calm and got out his stethoscope.

"I'm going to listen to your chest," Gary said. "Could you slip off that jacket?"

Rob sat up, and started struggling with his jacket. Mark moved in to help him, then faded back to the edge of the room.

"Right," Gary said. "This thing is going to be bloody cold."

He listened to Rob's chest and frowned. Both his lungs sounded crackly.

"Did this start off as a cold?" he asked as he took Rob's wrist to take his pulse.

"Yeah."

"Are you coughing anything up?"

"Yeah. Nasty green stuff."

"Do you smoke?"

Rob nodded, and Gary clenched his jaw. So far this was looking like straight bacterial pneumonia, but he'd like to see an x-ray and a set of bloods before to make sure. If this boy had been living on the street he might have managed to pick up TB.

"Okay, Rob, I know Jason told me that you don't like hospitals, but-"

"I'm not going near a hospital," Rob said, his voice adamant. He glanced quickly at his friend. Gary turned his head and could see Mark practically cowering at the mention of hospital.

"The thing is, Rob, I think you have pneumonia. But I'd like to get an x-ray to confirm it. Make sure you don't have anything worse."

"No hospital." Rob's lips thinned in determination.

"Can't you just treat him for pneumonia?" Jason asked. "I've seen a lot of it on the streets this year."

"It's not quite that easy," Gary said, though the Lord knew he hadn't always played entirely by the rules. He'd hit up the nurses for antibiotics on occasion when he'd been feeling rough himself. But he'd never risked someone else's life on an unconfirmed diagnosis. He'd prefer not to end his medical career before it properly began.

"Can't you make it that easy?" It was the first time the other boy, Mark, had spoken. His voice was lower than Gary would have expected. "Please."

The boy's shoulders were hunched over and he had his hands jammed in his pockets. His own coat was at his feet and his friend's coat was slung under one arm. He was finally looking at Gary with the hair brushed out of his eyes, and what Gary could see in those eyes… For all that Mark looked hopelessly young, his eyes marked him as old before his time.

"I'd like to help Rob out, Mark. I really would. But from where I'm standing, getting him into a hospital would be the best thing for him. He could get the treatment he needs. And maybe you could both talk to a social worker. Get some-"

"No!" Mark shouted, and Gary stepped back in surprise. "They'll just send us back there, and I can't. I just can't."

The boy bolted. With Rob's jacket in hand, he ran past Jason and Gary and was out the door before any of them could react.

"Markie!" Rob shouted after him and tried to get up. Gary pushed him down again with no effort whatsoever.

"You, stay where you are," Gary said to Rob. "And you two." He looked at Jason and Howard even as he kept one firm hand on Rob's chest. "One of you go after him, before he does something stupid."

* * *

Standing there, listening to Gary try to talk Rob into going to a hospital, Mark felt like he was drowning. Like he was under twenty feet of water with no idea of which way was up, and no way to breathe. And then when Gary mentioned a social worker...he couldn't take any more. They'd always meant well, but it was social workers who had sent him to that place. And they hadn't listened when he'd tried to tell them what was going on, had just told him that he needed to adjust, needed to be quiet and not cause trouble.

He couldn't go through that again. Not when Rob had got him out of there once already.

Without knowing exactly where he was going, he ran out of the house and out into the streets, shrugging into Rob's too-big jacket as he ran. He was barely aware that it had started to snow, the flakes getting caught in his lashes and turning the light from the streetlamps into cold, hard diamonds.

He ran without knowing where he was going, down streets and back alleys, turning often to make sure he wasn't being followed, his breathing sounding harsh in his throat. Finally, he turned one last corner and found himself across from a park, with a field and a copse of trees.

Needing to hide, to find some sort of cover, he headed for the biggest tree he could find and put it between him and the street. He leaned against the tree and felt his legs give out beneath him, felt himself slide down the trunk until he hit the ground with a bump.

He brought his knees up to his chin and wrapped his arms around his legs. It was the only way he could stop the shaking.

He sat there, watching the snow drift down around him, his thoughts spinning more and more out of control.

If only he hadn't trusted Jason. If only he hadn't tried busking today. If only Rob hadn't got sick. If only his family hadn't... If only, if only, if only. His life was just one fucking nightmare after another, with Rob the only bright spot.

He rested his forehead against his knees and took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes tightly shut.

He was so caught up on what was going on in his head that he didn't pay any attention to what was going on around him. Not until a hand grabbed at his elbow.

* * *

"I'll go," Howard said. He toed on his trainers, pulled on his jacket and was out the door in an instant.

By the time he got outside, Mark had already disappeared. But he'd left traces behind, tracks in the snow that was falling in soft, silent drifts.

Howard followed the tracks at a jog, hoping all the while that it really was Mark's trail he was following and not that of some other mad, trainer-wearing teenager who was out in a snowstorm on Christmas Eve.

Even as he followed him, Howard wondered what, exactly, he could possibly say to Mark. What he could do to get him back to the house. It's not like the boy would believe him if he told him everything was going to be alright. Howard imagined there had been a lot of people who had told Mark that. And they'd all been wrong.

He supposed that if it came to it, he could sling the boy over his shoulder and carry him back. Mark was a little 'un, after all. But he wasn't so little that he wouldn't cause Howard problems if he fought. And Howard suspected that if he tried to carry Mark, he would fight very hard indeed. He still had no idea what he was going to do when he came to Sunny Brow Park, and saw Mark's footprints leading across the snow-covered grass.

He found Mark huddled under one of the big trees in the park, his head on his knees, his hair covered with snow.

"Mark," he said as gently as he could. When the boy didn't respond, he put a hand on his elbow.

He wasn't prepared for the violence of the boy's reaction. Mark pulled his arm away, then launched himself at Howard, kicking and punching as if his life depended on it. From his throat emerged a horrible whimper that barely sounded human. Howard had at least six inches of height and more than a few stone on Mark, but it still took him long minutes to pin the boy to the ground. And when he did, he could see from the look in his eyes that Mark didn't see him, that he was reliving some nightmare memory that Howard didn't even want to guess at.

"Mark," he said, loudly, hoping to break the boy out of the state he was in. "It's Howard. You're okay. I'm not going to hurt you."

He kept up a steady patter of calming nonsense until finally Mark's struggles stopped. The whimper stopped with it, and the silence was even more horrible than the sound had been. He rolled off the boy, and Mark scrambled away from him, until his back was to the tree he'd been sitting beside when Howard arrived.

It was only then that Mark seemed to come to himself. Mark looked at him, recognition clearly showing in his eyes, and he began to weep.

"Christ," Howard said as he tentatively reached out and rubbed the boy's arm. "What the fuck did they do to you?"

* * *

The silence that fell over the living room after the big bloke left nearly did Rob's head in. He didn't want to be lying here on the sofa, held down by this blond twat. He wanted to be out there, going after Mark.

If only he didn't feel so crap.

He tried to sit up again, only to find himself pushed firmly back down again.

"You've got to let me go," Rob pleaded, looking at Jason. "I'm the only one he trusts."

"You're sick," the twat said. Gary said. "If we let you off this sofa, I wouldn't give tuppence for your chances."

"Try me." Rob knew Gary was probably right, but he wasn't about to admit it. Not with Mark out there on his own.

"Howard will find him," Jason broke in. Of all of this lot, Rob liked Jason best, and trusted him most. He seemed a genuinely nice person, if entirely mad. He still couldn't quite believe that he'd brought them both into his home. "He'll bring him back. You'll see."

"You don't know what Mark's been through."

Jason dropped to his haunches in front of Rob and gave him a probing look. "Why don't you tell us, Rob?"

"No!" He couldn't talk about that. Bad enough to have lived through that shit, without blathering about it. He and Mark never mentioned it. Not even when Markie would wake up from a nightmare, sweating and screaming. They wouldn't talk, they would just cuddle and kiss, and Rob would watch over Mark until he finally drifted back to sleep.

"Alright." Jason didn't seem about to push the point. "Why not tell us about you? Why were you in care?"

"Bad luck." Rob shrugged.

"What sort of bad luck?"

"The usual sort. My dad buggered off. My mum got sick. No one seemed to be able to handle me."

"And Mark?"

"Mark was different." Rob thought about the scared kid who'd arrived at the same group home as him, all big eyes and floppy hair, with a killer smile and a brilliant way with a football. "He wasn't like the rest of us."

"How?"

"He was a lovely lad. _Is_ a lovely lad. Just had even worse luck than the rest of us." He took a breath and thought about everything he knew about Mark. "He had a great mum and dad, and a sister and a brother, and they were out driving and a lorry hit their car. Mark was the only one to survive. He got out of the car with barely had a scratch on him. On the outside, anyway."

"He didn't have any other family?"

"There might have been an aunt." Rob tried to remember what Mark had told him about the female relative who'd arrived in time for the funeral, and then pissed off the next day. "No one who wanted to take him in, though."

"Is that what he's scared of? Losing people?"

"Aren't we all?" Rob tried to laugh, but it hurt too much.

"Did someone hurt him at the group home?"

Even though he'd known the question was coming, that Jason would work his way back to this point eventually, it still made him gasp.

"You might say that." Rob thinned his lips and blinked hard, willing away the tears that were even now forming in his eyes. Jason continued to look on with the same expression of compassionate curiosity he'd had all along.

"Who was it, Rob?"

He opened his mouth to try and speak, but nothing came out.

Jason reached out and patted his arm.

"The thing is, Rob, that if you tell us what happened, then I can make sure it doesn't happen again. To anyone. And we can get Mark the help he needs. The help you need. Do you understand?"

Rob looked down and nodded. He could sense Jason was a good person, and knew he was talking sense. But it was hard. And it wasn't his secret to keep.

"Then tell me what happened."

Rob opened his mouth, and finally words started to emerge. Such horrible words. And once the flood of words had started, it seemed there was no way of stopping it.

* * *

Mark was tired of fighting. Tired of escaping. Just tired. He wanted nothing more than for Howard, to leave him here in the snow. He wished he could just fall asleep and not wake up. Wished he could finally be shed of this pain he'd been shouldering for so long.

But it seemed Howard had other plans. He took his arm—gently, oh so gently, and it had been ages since anyone but Rob had been gentle with him—and helped him stand. Then he slung an arm around Mark's waist and helped him walk back the way they'd come.

Mark nearly made it. But when they were within sight of the house where Howard lived with Jason, his legs buckled underneath him and even with Howard's support he ended up half-sprawled on the pavement.

Howard didn't hesitate for an instant. He bent and scooped him up with no more apparent effort than he'd put into picking up a small child. Mark was mortified, but Howard acted as if it were nothing.

"Let's get you back home, hey?" he said in his gruff voice.

Mark bit his lip and nodded, holding back the urge to simply burst into tears, to give in to the darkness that had seemed so much part of his life for so long now. He could remember that he'd been happy, but he couldn't remember how it _felt_ to be happy. It seemed as if all his luck had belonged to a different person. The only good thing in his life now was Rob.

When they reached the front door of the house, Mark finally made eye contact with Howard. As if he understood what Mark was feeling, what he _needed_ , Howard gently put him down and let him walk into the house on his own.

Then they were inside the house, and in the lounge, and Mark knew immediately that something was wrong.

Gary was standing at the edge of the room, one hand over his mouth, looking almost like he was going to be sick. Jason was crouched down beside Rob, wearing an expression that Mark had seen before, on the face of the police officer who'd told him his family was dead, on the face of the nurse who'd looked after the few cuts he'd had, on the face of the social worker who'd arrived to take him from the hospital into care. It was a carefully neutral expression, designed to mask anything its wearer was feeling.

He looked to Rob, and if he'd felt overwhelmed before, it was nothing to what he felt now. Rob was crying, his eyes bloodshot and swollen, with snot smeared across his face.

"I told them, Markie," Rob said, drawing in a breath with a strangled hiccough. "I told them everything."

Mark started to back out of the room, out of the house, but this time Howard was there to stop him with a firm hand.

"Why?" he whispered to his friend. His only friend. Just one more person in the long line of people who'd betrayed him.

"They can help, Mark." Rob's words came out in a rush. "Jason says he can help. Make sure that bastard doesn't hurt you again. Make sure he doesn't hurt anyone else."

It was as if Rob had lanced a poison that had been festering within him for far too long. But instead of draining, Mark felt the poison burst and spread through his body, making him light-headed, making him nauseous, knocking all the remaining strength out of him.

He fell into darkness, certain that there was no one there to catch him.

* * *

Too late, Jason realized what was going to happen. Before he could move, he saw the colour drain from Mark's face, saw his eyes roll up in his head, saw his body fall as if he were a puppet whose strings had been cut by a cruel and malicious hand. But Howard was close, and Howard was fast, and Howard caught him, and then lifted him carefully into his arms.

"Mark!" Rob cried out.

"We'll look after him," Jason said to Rob before turning to Howard. "Bedroom," was all he said to How. Howard nodded, taking care with Mark as he moved up the steep stairs to the room they shared. Together they took off the boy's jacket and trainers, and tucked him into the bed. Jason reached down and brushed the hair out of his eyes.

"Poor little bastard," Howard said. Jason looked up, and he could see Howard's eyes glistening with emotion. "What are we going to do with them, Jay?"

"I don't know, How." He knew what he _should_ do. He should call in to report what Rob had told them. Should get the two of them into emergency care. Should make sure that they got back into the system. Except the system had already failed them both, and Jason knew enough about how things worked to know it could fail them again.

"I thought you might have a plan. I thought that was maybe why you brought them home."

"No." Jason shrugged. "No plan. I just knew I couldn't leave them in that squat."

"Could we take them in? I could clear my DJ gear out of the second bedroom."

"You know we can't, How." Jason looked stricken at the thought. "You know how careful we have to be." Howard cursed a system that wouldn't let a couple of poofs take in some kids who needed them, but had let a monster hurt an innocent boy.

"We can't just let them go."

There was a sound at the door, and Jason turned to find Gary standing there, looking utterly shell-shocked.

"Christ," said Gary. "I've never…I mean…" His voice trailed off. Jason supposed he'd once been that shocked by the horrible things people could do to each other, to children, but he'd seen it too many times now. It never failed to sadden him, but it no longer shocked him.

"You haven't had to deal with any abuse cases yet?"

"No." Gary shook his head emphatically. "I mean, we've all had the basic training, but they won't let students within a mile of anything like this." He shuddered, and Jason could guess at what he was playing through in his head. "What are we going to do with them?"

And just like that, Jason had a plan.

"How old are you Gary?"

"Twenty-two. Why?"

"And your house has a second bedroom, like ours?"

"I suppose. I've got the room at the back I've just thrown a lot of junk into. But why-- " Gary stopped talking and his eyes grew wide. "You can't seriously expect me to take them in."

"Howard and I can't." Jason didn't bother explaining why, but reckoned Gary was a smart lad. He must have long ago worked out that he and Howard were more than just roommates.

"But I'm not much older than they are." Jason could hear the hysterical edge to Gary's voice. He knew he had to handle this very carefully.

"You can be a good role model to them. They'll need that." He could see Gary puff up a bit at that. "And you won't be doing it alone. Howard and I are just next door. We can't officially take them in, but we'll always be there for them. And for you."

"I don't know."

"I can get the paperwork started once I'm back in the office. Fast track your application. Make sure you get assigned the two of them. Would you like help getting their room set up?"

"I suppose." Jason could see the second Gary stopped thinking this was a mad scheme and began planning how they could make it work. "I think my Nan might have two old single beds in her attic. They'd just about fit in that room. And I could get some spare sheets and blankets from her."

"That's great."

"Listen, I should get to the hospital. There's a few nurses I'm friendly with on the night shift that can help me out with antibiotics for Rob. I'm always rewriting their drug kardexes for them when they don't have time." Gary flashed a smile, and Jason could easily see how he'd charmed the nurses on his ward. And a good thing for them he had.

"You don't think he needs to be in hospital after all?" Jason asked.

"It would be best, but I don't think either he or Mark would do well in a hospital just now, do you?"

Jason shook his head, and nearly smiled at the way Gary was assuming responsibility over their two stray lambs, but restrained himself. If Gary thought this was all his idea, it would be so much the better.

"Besides, antibiotics should clear it up," Gary continued. "Make sure he gets lots of rest and fluids, and give him paracetemol for that fever. And if he doesn't get better, the hospital will still be there when they're both in better shape."

"Point taken."

"I should go say goodbye to Rob and get over to the hospital. The sooner he's on the antibiotics, the better."

"You go ahead," Howard said, putting a firmly possessive hand on Jason's elbow. "We'll join you in a second."

Gary left the room without a word. When he was completely gone, Howard put his arms around Jason and hugged him tightly.

"You're a right pain in the arse, but I love you," Howard said in his ear, his breath tickling Jason's neck.

"I don't know what you mean," Jason said, deciding to play innocent for once.

"I'll just bet you don't." Howard kissed the side of his throat. Jason moved in and kissed Howard on the mouth, putting every ounce of love he felt for the man into it. He broke off the kiss reluctantly.

"We should go sit with Rob. Keep him company until Gary gets back with his meds."

"You think we can leave this one alone?" Howard nodded down at Mark, just as the boy stirred and blinked and looked up at them, his eyes full of confusion and fear.

"It's alright, Mark," Jason said, reaching down to stroke his shoulder. "It's going to be alright."

Jason was relieved when the boy seemed to take him at his word. He gave a slight nod, then his eyes drifted shut and he fell into a real sleep.

"Is it going to be alright?" Howard asked, doubt showing in his eyes.

"Yes." Jason wasn't going to let the doubt overcome him this time. He wasn't going to think of the long road Mark had in front of him. And Rob. For the moment, he was going to put his belief into these two boys, in their ability to survive what had been done to them, in his ability to help them. "It absolutely is."

* * *

As Mark began to drift up toward consciousness, several things were clear. He felt warm. He felt comfortable. He felt remarkably safe. Safer than he had done in, well, a long time.

He started to stretch, not quite certain where he was, but feeling that things were alright. But then he broke the surface of sleep, and he remembered everything.

Gasping, he sat up, muscles tensed for a fight, blinking against the sunlight flooding into the room.

"Oi," someone said, and touched his arm. He flinched, turned towards the voice, and found Rob lying beside him, still huddled under the covers. "Happy Christmas," Rob said, looking up at him with a cheeky grin. Rob hadn't looked this good, this healthy in weeks.

"Rob!" He grabbed Rob and squeezed him as hard as he could. Rob was warm, but not fever hot, not like he'd been all week. Mark had never been so relieved.

"Uh, Markie, could you let go?" Rob said. "Only, I can't breathe."

"Sorry!" Mark eased his hold on Rob slightly, but kept his arms around him. It took several long minutes before curiosity finally won out over the sheer relief of finding himself safe, and Rob with him.

"Rob?"

"Yeah?"

"Where are we?"

"You're only asking that now?" He could hear the disbelief in Rob's voice, and pulled back to look at him.

"Yeah."

"We're still at Jason's place. Him and Howard gave us their bed." Mark goggled a bit at the "their bed" bit, but after thinking about it for less than a second he realized how obvious it was that Jason and Howard were a couple. "They've kipped in the living room. They were arguing over who got the sofa, the last I heard."

"And?"

"And what?" Rob rested his chin on Mark's shoulder, and Mark thought he'd be content to stay like this forever.

"And what else did I miss?"

"Well, Gary went 'round to the hospital and got me some antibiotics. He's only a med student, but Jason says he's got the nurses wrapped around his little finger. Gary says it'll take at least a day before the meds start working, but I already feel better."

"Anything else?"

"Jason talked Gary into taking us in. I reckon he's a bit of a knob, but Jason says he's alright." Rob's tone was so calm, that Mark nearly didn't take in the meaning of his words right away. But when he did…

"What?!" He pulled back so he could look at Rob, make sure he wasn't taking the piss.

"Gary's taking us in." Rob said the words slowly and carefully, as if he were speaking to an idiot child. Which wasn't far off from how Mark felt just at the moment. "Jay's going to help with the paperwork and get us assigned to him."

"Jay?"

"Jason. Keep up, Markie. Him and How are going to help out too. And we're supposed to go over to How's mum's for Christmas dinner today. And…Markie, what's wrong?"

There was nothing wrong, but somehow, Mark couldn't stop sobbing. A brief flash came to him from last night, of waking up in this bed and having Jason tell him everything was going to be alright.

Maybe, just maybe, it really was.


End file.
